“Well, Bart,” asked that gentleman, eagerly, “what did Judge Lawless want of you in such haste?”
“Oh! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!” roared Black Bart, in a perfect agony of enjoyment. “If it isn’t about the best fun I’ve ever heard tell on. Why, man alive, you’d never guess if you were to try from this to doomsday. Judge Lawless, the saint, the angel, the parson, has fell in love, and wants the girl carried off! Oh! ha! ha! ha! ha! I’ll split my sides!”
Mr. Rozzel Garnet did not join in Black Bart’s merriment. He opened his eyes to their widest extent, and indulged in a long, low whistle, expressive of any amount of astonishment.
“Who’s the girl?” he asked, at length.
“That wonderful beauty at Old Barrens Cottage—nothing shorter. Everything arranged, and the square will come down like a prince—or if he doesn’t, we’ll make him. I don’t know her; so you’re to come with me, and together we’ll carry off the girl the first chance. The judge has gone to Baltimore to keep out of harm’s way, and won’t be back for three or four weeks. Ain’t it beautiful? The old judge in love! Ha! ha! ha!”
Like lightning there flashed a project of revenge across the mind of Rozzel Garnet. None of the smugglers knew either Erminie or Pet Lawless—why not carry off Pet instead of the other, and thus gratify his own passions, disappoint the judge, and have revenge. The blood flashed fiercely and hotly to his face as he thought of it; and he rose and walked to the window to hide his emotion from the keen eyes of his fellow-smuggler—for Garnet had joined them in their roving life after leaving the judge’s.
“Well, old fellow, what do you say to it?” asked Black Bart.
“I’m your man!” exclaimed Garnet, turning from the window, all his customary cool composure restored. “We will start immediately, and keep watch until night; it is more than probable we will see her before then, and, as the judge says, the sooner the better. Come along.”
Had Petronilla’s lucky star set? had her good angel deserted her? had Satan come to the assistance of his earthly myrmidons? had the Fates willed it, that her pony “Starlight” should on that eventful day cast a shoe, lame himself, and so be unfit to ride?
Pet rambled restlessly about the house, one minute terrifying rooks, and bats, and swallows from their homes in the eaves and chimneys, by banging away at some new polka on the piano; the next, seizing the bellows for a partner, and going waltzing round the room; the next, rushing like a mad thing as she was, up stairs, and then sliding down the banisters.